Roger's mention of dipodic heptameter above prompts me to present an example written by our guest lariat -- how long ago I'm not sure. Perhaps when he returns he might offer a comment on its rhythm and meter, and even scan a stanza or two for us.
The Ill Lit Blues
The lights come on so early on these winter afternoons;
The darkness creeps up early, winter afternoons,
And somewhere a piano is picking out a musty tune.
With less than an explanation you have taken your liberty
And arranged without thinking that nobody else but me
Will be sitting here in the dark like a granite effigy.
Well, no use complaining, there are a million people like me,
And everything as usual is exactly what it must be:
Character is fate, they say--I'm sure that you agree.
And they say love is easy as the turning of a page--
Haven't you heard that, honey?--like the turning of a page?
But they mumble something different in the back rooms of old age.
I'm not a first-time loser, I've been down this road before,
And once again I find myself standing outside a door;
But even as I spell it out, I still don't know the score.
Yet the truth is plain as day, love, all you need to do is look;
I can see it clear as daylight, saw it in your parting look-
Love is a sudden emptiness like the closing of a book.
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John, some confusion of meter and rhythm did occur in some replies (not yours) to the Underway posting, but I'd rather not give names or identifying particulars. However, any number of times I could only continue discussions on Erato threads here by writing something like: "I assume you mean the rhythm rather than the meter."
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